


so belittled

by maternaljoke



Series: sleepytwt follower goal requests [3]
Category: DreamSMP, SMPEarth, Sleepyboisinc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pokemon, Angst, Family Dynamics, Gen, Oneshot, Pokemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maternaljoke/pseuds/maternaljoke
Summary: in which tommy gets a surprise visitor the night before the galar pokemon league; a visitor who has a message for him.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Toby | Tubbo, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Wilbur Soot
Series: sleepytwt follower goal requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823998
Comments: 18
Kudos: 245





	so belittled

**Author's Note:**

> why do you have to be so  
> cold and uninviting  
> you don't think im the best but  
> dont think i dont detest the way  
> you go on and on and  
> pretend that nothings wrong and  
> i want a little sister  
> and i have one and i miss her  
> \--  
> cyberbully mom club - smking to dth

“You think we’ll find him?”

Tommy stares up at the ceiling. His eyes trace the small popcorn indents striping it, bumpy and crinkling, raised scars on untainted flesh.

“Of course! They announced the League on air, so if he keeps up with Pokemon he should know. He saw we’re competing.”

“You think he remembers me?”

“Eh, I dunno. You  _ are  _ pretty forgettable, Toby.”

“Aw.”

“I’m joking. I’m sure he does. You were like a conjoined twin of mine back then. Awful clingy.”

“Oh, shut up.” There’s a brief pause. “How do you plan to talk to him if he does show up?”

“ _ When _ he shows up,” Tommy gestures with his hands as he speaks, squinting up at the ceiling. “I’ll… I’ll talk to him the night in between the League and challenging the Champion.”

“You sure you’ll get that far?”

“I have faith in myself. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Tommy.” Tommy looks over at Toby as he moves away from the window. “I’m gonna go get some food, you wanna come with?”

“Nah, I’m good. Grab something for me, though.”

“Pay me back?”

“Fuck you, Bitch Boy.”

“Figures.” Toby scoffs a chuckle, the laugh of someone who’s had this exact conversation over and over since he was five. “I’ll see you later.”

Tommy hums, moving his gaze back to the ceiling. “See ya’.”

There’s a bit more shuffling around the room, before the door opens and slams shut. The click of the lock rings in his ears.

Tommy lays there for a few moments, drowning in the silence that envelops him. He can hear the buzzing of the aircon, the receding footsteps of a slightly older teen echoing through the hall and the ringing in his ears, loud and stabbing, needles being pricked into a pincushion. 

The bed feels like dust.

He sits up. His hair feels messy and tousled, thin with cold sweat at the neck and hairline. 

He can’t force the energy to go take a shower, despite the need to take one clawing at him. Instead, he shuffles back, leaning against the headrest, the wood pressing marks into his skin. 

He flicks TV on. It buzzes with light before dulling into white noise. There aren’t many channels; a news channel, some kids program, a cooking show, and then back to news again. He lets it rest on the news.

“Welcome to Galar national news. Tonight, we will be discussing the upcoming Pokemon League taking place in Wyndon Stadium!” 

Beside the man, the second reporter chuckles, flirtatious and breezy. She seems fake, her nails long like claws and her hair threatening to come loose from its tight hairspray at any moment. The man isn’t much better, with his hair slicked back so greasily it shines like glass, eyes red around the corners from strain and glossed with salt. His hands tremble from their grip on the desk.

“That’s right, Josh. Tomorrow at noon, twenty-two new trainers will be challenging the elite four; Pete Hut, Callum Kay, Dream Taken, and Jonathan Schlatt. Their coach, Eret Deep, is now live with an interview talking about the league with our friend, Niki. Niki, how are you and Eret?”

The camera switches to a short, blond woman with a soft, shaky expression. There’s more talking, Tommy tunes it out. He just wants to sleep. 

He closes his eyes. 

He opens them again when someone knocks on the door. 

He blinks, sitting up with a jolt, his shoulders heaving with the weight of consciousness. The TV’s still running, far past the topic of the League, now running some political debate. Tommy doesn’t care for it. 

The knocks thump through the room again, this time more rapid, more desperate. Tommy rubs his eyes, aching with fuzziness, and groggily stands up, shuffling towards the door.

“Toby, if you forgot your keycard I swear to fucking  _ god _ I will-”

He swings the door open.

“T- Wil?”

Wilbur’s aged a lot. He’s taller, his hair is overgrown and looks like it hasn’t been cut in months. His skin looks paler than it ever has, freckles barely visible under the warm hotel light. His eyes don't glisten despite the light, looking dry and red.

He looks like a ghost.

Wilbur instantly steps forward and pulls Tommy into a hug. Tommy returns it, wrapping his arms around Wilbur’s shoulders, ignoring the way they shake. The way all of him shakes and quivers in his fuzzy coat and wool beanie.

“Toms.” His voice is deeper now, less squeaky and childish. It threatens to spill with emotion.

“I was hoping you’d come. I didn’t expect it to be now though. I mean, I don’t blame you. Nobody can get enough of me.”

Wilbur barks out a weak laugh. “Yeah. I bet.”

They pull away. Wilbur keeps his hands resting on Tommy’s biceps. “Can I come in?”

They end up sat on one of the hotel beds, Tommy showing Wilbur the smaller Pokemon on his team. “This is my Falinks, their name is Cuck. Oh, and this is Cinderace, his name is Alphamale. He was actually my starter-”

“Toms?”

Tommy looks up with a curious hum.

“You’re going into the League.”

He looks from the Pokeballs, up to Wilbur. “Yeah?”

“Don’t.”

He blinks. Wilbur grips his shoulder.

“Tommy, listen to me. Don’t enter the League. You can still ditch it.”

“Why would I do that?” Tommy moves the hand off his shoulder. The area burns.

“Whatever you’ve been told, it’s a lie. It’s all a lie, Toms.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Listen to me. They ruin you. They take whatever childish wonder you have left and they crush it. Any bond you have with these Pokemon, with Cuck or Alphamale? Gone. They take your Pokemon, you never see them again if you lose, which you probably will. And when you lose, which again, you likely will, you’ll be belittled. Mocked and shamed by the coaches, the gym leaders, the audience.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why do you think I dropped off the face of the earth as soon as I was defeated? You think I wanted that?”

“I figured you were just…” Tommy looks down at the comforter tucked into the bed frame. The dust settled on it’s wrinkled, stale front. “Ashamed.”

“Ashamed.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Goosebumps form at the wild, clinging look in Wilbur’s eyes, wide and hollow.

“You can’t go to the league.”

“How do you know I’ll lose?” Tommy stands up, facing Wilbur and gesturing wildly with his arms. His head spins with wind, his thoughts bruising against each side of his brain. “I’m Tommy Pandel! I’ve gotten all my badges without being defeated, I’ve beaten practically everyone who’s challenged me-”

“You’ve been training for five months. Those elite four? They’ve been training for years, decades. You really think you can beat them?”

“Yes! I do, actually! And you’re my brother, you should believe in me too!”

They stare at each other for a moment. Wilbur's gaze, partially hidden with hair and wire frames, is cold. It churns with anger, bitter and spinning, a hurricane on the brink of forming. Cold and angry and hissing, calm and apathetic in the dark, sparking pupil. The eye of the eye. The salt being pulled up leaves water threatening to spill from the cracks, from the corners of the storm.

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

And just like that, it dissipates. It calms in the blink of an eye; laps at the pillars holding the pier up, at the shore mixed with beached whales and sharp, black and grey stones. It stings with the lingering salt, but is still calm despite itself.

“I don’t want you to be afraid to go outside due to ridicule. You have so much going for you Toms, I don’t want that ruined for you.”

“Wil.” Wilbur stands up. Tommy reels him in, the worm either apology or forgiveness. Neither of them are sure, but it hooks all the same.

Tommy wraps his arms around Wilbur’s upper back. Wilbur strains his neck to rest his chin on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Please. Don’t do it.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Wil. To be in front of that crowd, you and dad and Toby cheering my name.”

“I know. I wanted that too.”

“I think I can do it.”

“It’s not a matter of how much you believe in yourself. It’s rigged against you from the start.”

“Wil…” Tommy starts, but doesn’t know where to end. Wilbur seems to.

“I have to go.” 

He steps back.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, I don’t-”

“Make sure you stay in contact with dad. He deserves it.”

Tommy pauses, quietly sighs, and gives in. 

“You’re one to talk. You haven’t sent a letter or called since you left.” Tommy forces a weak smile, a chuckle bubbling from his chest.

“That’s the point.” Wilbur’s expression is stiff, strained. It makes the knot in Tommy’s chest tighten.

“I’ll see you around.”

And like that, Tommy’s left alone with his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter at [@wilbursand](https://twitter.com/wilbursand)!


End file.
